


Exosculate

by chronicAngel



Series: Concresce [1]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Arguing, F/M, Kissing, Making Out, POV Third Person, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 23:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15106982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicAngel/pseuds/chronicAngel
Summary: exosculatev. to kiss fervently or heartily





	Exosculate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mikorins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikorins/gifts).



> This is pure self-indulgence.

She sometimes wonders if Orianna is aware she is a robot. It seems like a strange thought to have (at least she feels strange when she thinks it), but she is fascinated by the idea that she might not. That all of her thoughts are dictated by a program and she might not even be aware of it is a terrifying thought to Lux. That she could look in a mirror and see the metal and clockwork that makes up her body and not know seems laughable, though.

She blinks as she realizes that Ezreal has retorted. "Pardon?" She asks, and she can't make it sound venomous even as she knows that they are supposed to be arguing. (Maybe not _supposed_ to, but that is what they are doing.)

He grits his teeth and seems to think this is a deliberate choice on her part. "I _said_ that you're like a robot!" He spits again, angrily, and she blinks at this. _Ah, right_ , she thinks without actually responding. This is what lead her to thinking about Orianna on this particular occasion. "It's like Demacia programmed you to be perfectly _proper_ and forgot to plug in the emotional parts to make you realistic! Everything you do is so _calculated_ and _precise_! Do you feel anything at all?" She does not remember what she did to warrant his anger this time, but she is sure it was likely something tiny that he has blown out of proportion. Mountains out of molehills and all that. After a minute, she realizes that he was actually asking her.

"Ezreal, you know that I do," she states calmly, but she thinks her flat, placating tone is probably not helping her case. His frustrated expression says as much. "I get angry when you argue with me for no reason when I am obviously right. I am afraid of the prospect of being turned in to Demacia's authorities for being a mage. I love you." She knows that saying all of this like they are simply more points in an argument that she is trying not to get mad in is not helping her case, but for just a second his expression softens and she thinks he will actually accept this.

"How can I know that when you never do anything to show me that you do?" This is a surprise to her. She wasn't aware that he felt that way (and this is another one of the myriad of reasons she wishes he would just _talk_ to her when he is upset rather than sulking and avoiding her for days; he knows as well as she does that she has trouble reading things like this, and it is easier for everyone when he is just clear with her) and she knows her eyes have gone wide in bewilderment because he immediately stares bitterly down at his feet. "You don't even say 'I love you too' most of the time when I say it. And we haven't... you haven't even..."

He does not finish his sentence, but she knows. She knows because it is something she has been debating with herself for weeks (since they started dating, really). She wonders if they're at that stage in their relationship, wonders why he couldn't just _ask her_ if he wanted it so bad.

 _You haven't even kissed me_.

She has been sitting while he paced in front of her rambling this whole time, and she finally pushes herself to stand, taking a half step toward him. He stills, staring at her with a deer-in-the-headlights look that makes it look like he thinks she is going to hit him. ( _Or break up with him_ , she mentally adds, and this makes her brows knit together worriedly.) Her eyes flick between him and the exit of their tent and she wonders for a moment whether or not she should just leave him here. She wonders if that would make things worse. (She knows it would, though. She knows she is just looking for an excuse not to follow through.)

She steps forward defiantly even as it feels like wading through swampy water and keeps going until her chest is only an inch away from bumping into his, staring into his eyes and trying to weigh her options. It is hard to think too clearly when she is looking into his eyes, wide in what she thinks is still fear (fear and _something else_ , but she can't quite place it and so she brushes it away for later).

Everything about Ezreal is blue. His eyes are like the euclase found in the Freljord and when he is upset with her blizzards stir in their depths that entice her to freeze to death. The markings underneath them remind her startlingly of the way light reflects off of the waters in Ionia, and the imagery is fresh in her memory.

When her lips are against his, eyes falling closed, all she sees is white. White like the marble that makes up the cities in Demacia, white like High Silvermere in the winter and the pleasant memories she has of playing in the snow with Garen when they were particularly young, white like the small, hesitant figure she had made of light when she first revealed her magic to him, and white like the flowers that were blooming in Ionia the day she admitted she loved him.

Her face is burning when she pulls away, eyes fluttering open to look up into his again, and his mouth still hangs half-open in surprise. She has to try her best not to snicker, but she knows she can't hide a half-amused, half-dazed smile.

She is confused by his silence when they finally go to bed, as Ezreal does not like the quiet. She does not break it, though, in case there is a reason he is not talking to her (she likes the quiet anyway, likes to sit in the dark and be able to hear herself think for once), and so she just lays there with one of his arms flung over her hips. Not for the first time, she thinks about rolling over to face him and kissing him until neither of them can breathe, but for the first time this is a reality at the edge of her fingertips and not just a distant fantasy.

For the first time in a long while, when she wakes up, he is not with her. She almost always wakes up before Ezreal, a consequence of her horrible nightmares and punctuality being drilled into her head every day for the entire duration of her training with the Radiant Ones, so waking up without feeling the familiar weight of his gauntlet slung across her side or his warm breaths in her hair causes an immediate sense of alarm. She gets ready in only a few minutes (it would be less time if armor did not take so long to put on by oneself, and she would go without it if not for the very same training insisting never to do so) and steps out, squinting over everyone.

She spots him talking to Vi and feels her heart rate slowly returning to normal, actually letting out a small breath she didn't realize she was holding, and decides to begin taking everything down with Shyvana and Ekko while Fiora does... _whatever_ Fiora does, as is the regular morning routine.

Mornings continue like this for almost a month, and she begins to wonder if it is due to an error of her own. She wonders if he is mad at her. ( _Should she not have kissed him? Was it a bad kiss or simply too soon? Was it both, or neither? Is he just being very Ezreal about the whole thing and thus unwilling to talk to her until she approaches him first? She hates it when he does this because she does not particularly like approaching him about things first, either, and she would love it if he would bear the burden for once. She wants to kiss him, though. That is the main reason it stings. It stings because he won't even talk to her and she wants to kiss him_.) During the third week, he slowly begins talking to her again. He looks in her direction once more when they all discuss which path to take and he waits in the tent to say good morning to her before he rushes out.

It is not enough, though. As much as she still asserts that Ezreal is the most annoying person she knows (and it is true, she does not know anyone who purposely gets on her nerves as much as he does, she just finds it so much easier to put up with it now), she still wants more Ezreal. Nothing about him avoiding her feels _nice_ , and she doesn't even realize how much she missed it until she gets it, but it is in too-small doses. He'll smile at her and then _not_ tell her he loves her and it is unnatural and uncomfortable.

She wanders off more now. She has always had a tendency to wander off on her own when the group is too much for her, a habit that she acknowledges is a bad one but has yet to have put any effort into fixing, but she does it more and more often the longer he avoids talking to her.

This is for two reasons. Firstly, it means that she has time to talk to herself.

But secondly, and more importantly, it means that he has to find her and drag her back, which means that he has to actually _look at_ her and talk to her, even if it is just to scold her for going off on her own again.

On the twenty-seventh day of him barely talking to her (not that she's counting), she decides that she has to actually bring this up with him. This doesn't make it easier, but she wanders off to plan the conversation anyway. (It is such a bad habit, as it results in her being thrown completely off her rhythm when he does not respond the way she wants.)

She stares at the ground while she paces, measured steps that always result in her turning at the exact same two points, and she only pivots thrice in each one before the grass under her heels is flattened. This makes her frown more than she already was, buried in thought. _What would Orianna say_? She asks herself after a minute. She has only met the machine a handful of times, so this is difficult, but it makes it easier to put words together in her head and so she follows this train of thought anyway. "Ezreal, I would like to kiss you..." She starts, and then scraps the idea immediately in frustration. "That's not how people talk," she scolds herself aloud, glaring at her toes. _That might be how a robot talks, though_ , her mind supplies helpfully, and she waves away thoughts of Orianna all together.

She tries to think of some other person she can emulate who would probably be a million times more suited for this conversation than she is. "Yo, Ezreal," she starts, and this is as far as she gets in emulating Vi before she wants to smack herself. These words feel even more unnatural in her mouth than the words she thought a robot might provide. "Ezreal, I understand we kissed a few weeks ago," she tries again. She's not even sure _who_ she is emulating here, but she crinkles her nose. "Of course I understand that, I'm the one who kissed him!" She groans in frustration. "Ezreal, regarding kissing..." This feels like the best option.

"If that's the best I can come up with, he should break up with me," she berates herself, sitting on the ground with a huff and pulling her knees to her chest.

It is only quiet for a minute before she hears someone approaching her, and she might go on the alert if she did not recognize the way Ezreal walks. (An entire army could be approaching her and she could still pick out his gait.)

"Luxanna," he starts, and she hates the severity in his tone. Still, she raises her head despite her growing dread and looks at his face. _If he is going to break up with me, I suppose it is best done calmly and away from everyone else than in a fight while surrounded by our party_ , she thinks, but this is not much of a consolation. "Regarding kissing," he continues after a minute, and she realizes, cheeks heating up, that he is making fun of her.

Pushing herself to her feet in a second, she lunges just to shut him up and hardly registers what she is doing until her lips are against his. He does not push her away, she registers with minimal shock. (She does not register at all the fact that she has a thigh on either side of his stomach, effectively straddling him, while her mouth is smashed against his just to get him to stop talking.) After a moment, she pulls away, staring at him with more fear in her eyes than she knows is necessary and biting her lip nervously. She does not want to break up.

He lifts the hand that wears Ne'zuk's gauntlet and uses his thumb to pull her lip from between her teeth, and she is quite sure her heart stops beating in her chest for a moment. _That's just not fair_! She is not sure which one of them leans forward, but an instant later his lips are crushed against hers and she has moved her hands to grip his shoulders just so she has something to do with them.

She falls backward off of him after a moment and he is over her, suffocating her with kisses that she does not want to pull away from and holding his body over hers, parallel and more importantly _not touching her_. She hitches a leg to be wrapped around his hips and pulls away for a second to breathe but only manages two short pants before his mouth is on hers again.

She does not understand how she could have been hesitant about kissing Ezreal. The way he smashes his mouth into hers like he is a man dying of dehydration and she is fresh water feels inherently right.

He pulls away enough to let out a hot breath against her lips and she drags her eyes up to his just so she can think about anything _but_ kissing him again. She is sure her lips are swollen as is. (They are the same blue as always, but there's still something about them that seems new to her.)

"Ah, young love." It is unmistakably Vi, and she is still trapped under him and cannot jump away so she simply settles for pulling away as far as she can.

She can still barely breathe, and so when she asks, "What are you...?" And then trails off she has to hope the other woman understands what she means. Luckily for her, she seems to get it.

"We're heading out soon. Fiora just didn't wanna come get you, so Ek, Shyv, and I played rock-paper-scissors over who had to let you know we finished packing up." She doesn't apologize for interrupting them. (Strangely, Lux has the urge to apologize to _her_ , and she doesn't even know what for.) She turns and starts marching back in the direction of their group and she and Ezreal both scramble to follow after her. _Still_ , she thinks as she glances over at him, _perhaps it was worth it_.


End file.
